


Take a Look Around

by vanillalime



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Community: oz_magi, Lockdown Fic, Multi, Some Humor, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6893572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalime/pseuds/vanillalime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into various parts of Em City during the lockdown that took place between Seasons 3 and 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Look Around

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lisacali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisacali/gifts).



> Originally posted to LiveJournal in January 2014. Written for lisacali for Oz Magi 2013. The request:
> 
> Pairing/Character(s): any  
> Keyword/Prompt Phrase: lockdown fic  
> Canon/AU/Either: canon  
> Special Requests: something humorous would be appreciated, but I'm good with anything  
> Story/Art/Either: canon

“ _We’ve become a race of Peeping Toms. What people ought to do is get outside their own house and look in for a change._ ” — Stella (Thelma Ritter) to Jeff (Jimmy Stewart),  _Rear Window_  
  
  
Toby pressed his forehead against the plexiglass wall of his pod and gazed out into Em City. The same people in the same places doing the same things, every fucking day. One week into lockdown, with no foreseeable end in sight, and he felt more like a caged animal with each passing day.  
  
He thought of Jimmy Stewart’s character in the Hitchcock classic,  _Rear Window_ —confined to a cramped apartment and driven by physical limitations into observing the neighbors to pass the time. Unfortunately, however, none of Toby’s fellow inmates were providing the excitement of a gruesome, cold-blooded murder across the courtyard like Raymond Burr did in  _Rear Window_. In fact, Toby’s neighbors were more boring than he was.  
  
Then again, lockdown wasn’t over yet. In all likelihood, the possibility of murder was still on the table for some of Toby’s peers. Perhaps he just needed to be patient. After all, this evening’s lone observation of interest was an extended argument of some kind between Said and Arif. If their quarrel went on long enough, anything could happen.  
  
Toby shook his head. He was truly turning animalistic. Boredom was no excuse to hope for violence, especially if it were to involve someone he considered a friend. He really had to find another form of entertainment, one that occurred within his own pod. But it needed to be a diversion other than the one he was constantly faced with every time he turned around. For sex was an endless presence, always within arm’s reach, packaged in the physical form of one Chris Keller.  
  
Sure, Jimmy Stewart may have had to deal with the alluring temptations of Grace Kelly, oozing sex appeal out of a white chiffon gown while seductively reclining across a make-shift bed. But Toby had Chris, with muscles bursting out of a wifebeater and pants pulled tight across a perfect ass, all accentuated by regular sessions of push-ups and sit-ups. These were performed complete with sound effects designed specifically to attract Toby’s attention, as if there was any doubt that these makeshift work-outs would go unnoticed. But the physical act of sex itself could materialize only after lights-out, leading to days filled with boredom and self-denial.  
  
Toby stretched his arms above his head and placed his hands to rest against the glass. He had no books left to read, no more letters to write, and countless games of chess had already been played. He wished that he and Chris could just talk about life in general, but that always seemed like exploring a minefield.  
  
Toby contemplated getting a good night’s sleep for a change; perhaps that would help change his attitude. The current schedule, where every night consisted of repeated bouts of prolonged sex interspersed with brief intervals of post-coital unconsciousness, was playing havoc with his circadian rhythms.  
  
As if on cue, the lights of Em City went off with the precision of a Swiss timepiece.  
  
“Finally!” grumbled a low voice from the back of the pod. Toby stayed in place and considered his next move.  
  
“Tobeeeee,” Chris called softly.  
  
“I was thinking of going right to sleep tonight.”  
  
“Aw, no, baby, ya gotta make hay while the sun shines,” Chris purred. “Or doesn’t shine, in our case.”  
  
“I’m warning you—I’m tired and grumpy.”  
  
“Believe me, I can make you feel better. I’ve got some killer moves you still haven’t experienced.”  
  
Toby sighed. “Please tell me you’re speaking metaphorically," he said.  
  
Toby heard Chris shuffle up behind him and felt him grab the back of his waistband. Chris began to gently pull him toward their bunk. The further he pulled back, the tighter Toby's pants got in front.  
  
His willpower crumbled. “Maybe, just once tonight,” Toby whispered. “Until the hacks start their first round.”  
  
“Toby, the hacks don't care what we do at night, at least for now,” Chris murmured. He turned Toby around so that they were facing each other. "They're just happy their job is easy for a change. Hell, Said and Arif have been carryin' on all evening, and nobody's said shit to them."  
  
Toby wrapped his arms around Chris and leaned into him. "Yes, I know, I was watching them. I've been wondering what's got them so worked up."  
  
Chris gently tossed Toby down onto his bed and settled down next to him. "Why do you even care?"  
  
"I'm just curious. I'm guessing that they're probably having philosophical differences on the best way to bring race relations here back under control."  
  
Chris's roaming hands suddenly came to a stop as he started to laugh.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
"You," Chris answered. He ran his fingers through Toby's hair. "Always thinkin' so much. No one spends lockdown talkin' about philosophical differences. If you could hear what people are sayin’, you’d realize that it’s all about stupid shit, and sometimes it gets blown out of proportion. I’d say the odds are 10 to 1 that Said and Arif are fightin' over who was supposed to get that extra carrot stick at dinner."  
  
“Chris, I want you to know something.”  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'll let you have my extra stick whenever you want it."  
  
Chris groaned. "Not if I give you mine first.”  
  
***************  
  
Said was at his wit’s end. Arif was being unbelievably stubborn, and the fact that he refused to listen to reason was incredibly frustrating.  
  
“The government is afraid of what will happen if the races learn to co-exist,” Arif continued to argue. “It actually frightens them more than the idea of a race war. They WANT us to remain ignorant of each other!”  
  
“Not everything is a conspiracy, brother!” rebutted Said with a shake of his head.  
  
“In this case, it’s not conspiracy, it’s FACT. There are people who have studied the situation for years. I’ve read their books. These people have access to classified information!”  
  
Said found Arif’s gullibility exasperating. “Those people only see what they want to see, and tell you what they want you to hear!” he exclaimed.  
  
“You are being more closed-minded than our Arayan enemies here in Oz.”  
  
That was the last straw. Said loomed over Arif and jabbed his finger into his chest. “This conversation is over. I’m telling you, once and for all, no alien spaceship has ever crash-landed in Roswell, there is no such thing as alien colonization, and Area 51 is used only for legitimate weapons testing.”  
  
Said turned his back and prepared for prayers. Even if he had failed to change Arif’s mind, he was done talking about it.  
  
“I suppose you also think that man really walked on the moon,” Arif muttered.  
  
Said clutched his head in his hands.  
  
***************  
  
“Aw, fuck! Keller just mooned me!"  
  
“You do somethin’ to piss him off?"  
  
“No! I just rolled over, and there it was!"  
  
"Oh, man, he's not moonin' you—he's doing somethin’ else with that ass.”  
  
“Shit! Again?!”  
  
“You’re surprised? Why should tonight be any different?”  
  
“Yeah, you're right. It’s like we’re gettin’ our own live peep show every damn night!”  
  
“At least it’s free. People on the outside pay good money for this.”  
  
“Too bad we can’t arrange for others to watch and charge ‘em admission. We could make a bundle.”  
  
“Maybe after lockdown is over, we could make some money by taking bets each night. Who does what to whom and how, somethin’ like that.”  
  
“Nah, that sonuvabitch O’Reily would just figure out a way to fix it. I just know he did that with all those boxing matches.”  
  
“How could he possibly fix something like fucking?”  
  
“Oh, he’d find a way. I can see him tellin' Keller some bullshit fairy-tale story about havin’ sex with some chick while she’s standin’ on her head and how incredible it was. The next thing you know, Beecher’s flyin’ through the air like a fucking trapeze artist, and O’Reily’s a hundred dollars richer.”  
  
***************  
  
Cyril tossed and turned, but couldn’t fall asleep. ”Ryan, will you tell me one of your stories?” he asked.  
  
“No, Cyril, I’m too tired. Why don't you tell me a story for a change?"  
  
"The only stories I know are the ones you tell me."  
  
“Well, make one up then."  
  
Cyril was quiet for a minute, and then he began:  
  
—  _Once upon a time, there were two puppets named Nooter and Pecky. They fought all the time. A kind and beautiful teacher named Miss Sally was their best friend, and she wanted the three of them to be one happy family. She tried to get Nooter and Pecky to stop fighting and like each other. But the reason why they fought so much wasn't because they didn't like each other. It was because they liked each other a little too much._  —  
  
"Oh, fuck, Cyril."  
  
"What?"  
  
“Is this going to be some kind of love story? Aren’t Nooter and Pecky both guy puppets?”  
  
"So? Toby and Chris are both guys, and they like each other that way."  
  
"Yeah, and look how fucked up that is.”  
  
Cyril furrowed his brow and resumed his story:  
  
—  _One day, Miss Sally had a lesson on talking about your feelings. She asked Nooter and Pecky to talk about how they felt about each other. To everyone’s surprise, they both revealed their true feelings of love. Nooter and Pecky became a very happy couple, and they decided to get married._  —  
  
“Jesus Christ.”  
  
“Now what?”  
  
“Two guys can’t get married, Cyril.”  
  
“Not now, but maybe someday.”  
  
“That’s never going to happen. Trust me.”  
  
Cyril frowned, but continued:  
  
—  _They had a beautiful wedding. The ceremony was performed by Miss Sally herself. Then Nooter and Pecky moved into their own house. They loved each other so much that it didn’t take long for them to fill the rooms of the house with a couple of baby puppets._  —  
  
“Fuck! That does it!”  
  
“What’s wrong now?”  
  
“A guy can’t get pregnant by another guy! You know that!”  
  
“They’re puppets. Maybe puppets are different.”  
  
“Well, that’s just too fucking weird!”  
  
“You know, Ryan, I don’t keep interrupting you when you’re telling a story.”  
  
Ryan grunted. “Okay, right. Just try to wrap it up before my brain fucking explodes.”  
  
Cyril started up again, speaking louder and faster than before:  
  
—  _But looking after those baby puppets was hard work. Nooter and Pecky fell back into their old habits and started fighting again. As more time passed, the more they fought. Miss Sally convinced Nooter and Pecky to take a vacation away together to get away from it all. She said that she would watch the baby puppets for them while they were gone.  
  
But Nooter and Pecky left and never came back. No letters, no phone calls, nothing.  
  
Miss Sally was very sad, and so were the baby puppets. So, Miss Sally adopted them and promised to love them and take care of them. Together, they became the one, big happy family that she had always wanted. They lived happily ever after. THE END._  —  
  
Ryan was quiet for a long time, and Cyril began to wonder if he had fallen asleep. Finally, he heard Ryan clear his throat.  
  
“I like the ending,” Ryan said.  
  
“I do, too.”  
  
“Tomorrow night, I’ll tell you a story.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“And, Cyril?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“After lockdown’s over, you should find another TV show to watch.”  
  
***************  
  
“As great a show as  _Miss Sally’s Schoolyard_  is, I miss watching regular TV,” lamented Busmalis. “I miss listening to the radio, too. I miss going out to the movies.”  
  
He rolled over in his his bunk to look down at Rebadow. “What about you, Bob? Did you like going out to the movies?”  
  
Rebadow grimmaced. “The last movie I saw before getting sent to Oz was  _The Sound of Music._ ”  
  
“Wow, really? I pictured you as more of a spy thriller kind of guy."  
  
Rebadow sighed. “My wife loved musicals. Anytime they turned a Broadway show into a movie, we had to go see it.  _My Fair Lady, The Music Man, West Side Story_.…” His voice drifted away.  
  
The two men were quiet for a moment before Rebadow continued. “You know, when I first met Sister Pete, there was something about her that seemed familiar. It took me a long time to figure it out, then one day it hit me. She looked and sounded just like the actress that played Anita in  _West Side Story_. Only a lot older, of course. Now, whenever I see her, I half expect her to break out into ‘America’ and start dancing."  
  
Busmalis burst out laughing. "Bob, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say! And you've said some pretty crazy stuff. Imagine, Sister Pete, a movie star!”  
  
“I just can’t shake that feeling,” Rebadow shrugged.  
  
As Busmalis continued laughing, CO Andrea Phelan walked past their pod, making her round.  
  
“Oh, look! There’s Officer Phelan!” Busmalis pointed out. “Maybe she used to be a hip-hop artist! She was probably a trailblazer for women in rap music!”  
  
Now Rebadow was laughing, too. “Okay, okay, forget I said anything.”  
  
***************  
  
Phelan made her way back up to the CO's monitoring platform. She observed Murphy sitting at the station, head bent down, and thought maybe he had fallen asleep. As she got closer, however, it became clear that he wasn’t asleep, but, instead, deeply engrossed in something. Walking up beside him, she commented, “I wish it was this quiet all the time.”  
  
At the sound of her voice, Murphy jumped, and a ball of yarn tumbled to the floor. Phelan stopped in her tracks. She looked down at Murphy and realized that he had been wrapping the yarn around the pegs of a knitting loom sitting in his lap.  
  
Murphy shook a hooking tool in her direction. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to,” Phelan replied. She picked up the yarn from the floor and handed it back to him. "What in the world are you doing?"  
  
"Making a scarf. You got a problem with that?"  
  
Phelan smiled. "No, but, to be honest, you never struck me as the arts-and-crafts type."  
  
"I've been having problems with the blood circulation to my fingers. My sister's a physical therapist, and she got me this for Christmas. She thought it would help."  
  
"Oh, that makes sense." Phelan sat down next to Murphy and took a closer look at the progress he had made. "It's coming along real nice."  
  
"Thank you," Murphy replied gruffly as he quickly rearranged his supplies.  
  
"That's a pretty shade of blue, too. Very unique."  
  
"I like it."  
  
“You know what? Now that I think about it, Tim McManus has a coat in that same exact color."  
  
Murphy turned his head and coughed. ”Really? I, uh, never noticed."  
  
***************  
  
"Okay, now turn your head and cough."  
  
Toby laughed. "Chris.... "  
  
"What? Didn't you ever play doctor when you were a kid?"  
  
Toby moved Chris’s hand and rolled over so that he was facing him. “No, I didn’t. But I bet you had all the girls in the neighborhood lined up, waiting to be your patient.”  
  
Chris chuckled. ”People want the best healthcare they can find.”  
  
“…. and you have the skills of a heart surgeon,” said Toby as he ran a finger down the length of Chris’s chest. He paused for a moment, then quietly asked, “What was your first time like?”  
  
“My first time what? Ridin’ a bike?”  
  
“You know what I mean. It was probably with your school’s head cheerleader. Or maybe the young secretary who worked in the principal’s office.”  
  
"Nah, nothin’ that exciting.”  
  
“No?”  
  
Chris sighed. “I was 15. I was horny all the time, like you are at that age. But I didn’t want the hassle of a girlfriend, ya know? And all the hot, popular chicks were lookin' for relationships, with dates to the movies and school dances and meetin' the parents and all that shit.”  
  
“And you just wanted to get laid.”  
  
“Yeah,” Chris laughed. “So, there was this one real nerdy girl I kinda knew, who was all shy and quiet. Kind of a dog, too, but she was nice. And I knew that she had had this crush on me since grade school. One night, when she was home alone, I went over to her house, pretendin' to need help with my homework.  
  
“Well, as you can imagine, one thing led to another, and it didn’t take long before I had her willin’ to do anything. We fucked, and then I took off before her parents came home. I avoided her the next day at school when I could tell she wanted to talk to me.  
  
“I blew her off for a week or so, until I got too horny to stand it. I went back over to her house to apologize, and next thing you know, I’m gettin' my first blow-job. I went back to ignoring her again after that, but we still hooked up a few more times. Eventually, she wised up and got herself her own nerdy boyfriend. But it was great while it lasted.”  
  
Toby rolled back away from Chris. He closed his eyes and thought carefully about Chris’s story. He couldn’t stop himself, and he said, “Sounds like you were a real asshole.”  
  
“I think she still had a pretty good time, Toby,” Chris responded defensively.  
  
There was a change in the atmosphere. Toby tensed, but pushed ahead anyway. “Sometimes you treat people like social experiments, trying to find their breaking points,” he chastised. He paused, then added, “No wonder you got divorced so many times."  
  
“Well, what about you, huh?” snapped Chris. “What was your first time like? I bet your dad hired some high-class hooker for you on your sixteenth birthday. Or was it your eighteenth?”  
  
“The summer after I turned 13," Toby blurted out, "I stayed with my grandmother for a month while my parents were in Europe. I spent most of the time doing it with the young, pretty maid who was responsible for cleaning the guesthouse.”  
  
Chris stared at him. “You’re lying,” he scoffed.  
  
“Am I?”  
  
Minutes went by without either of them saying anything. Toby tried to get his temper under control. He kicked himself for not realizing that a discussion of each other’s sexual history was a recipe for disaster.  
  
“So, are you tellin’ me that you were some kind of teenage stud or somethin’?” Chris finally asked.  
  
Toby bit his tongue. He knew that he needed to check his ego and smooth Chris’s ruffled feathers if there was to be a chance of them making it through lockdown. He rolled back over and tentatively wrapped his arm around Chris.  
  
“Would you believe me if I admitted that Genevieve and I were both virgins on our wedding night?”  
  
Chris looked Toby in the eyes and studied him. Toby knew that he was searching for the truth, and he hoped that Chris would find an answer he wanted. Slowly, Chris’s face broke into a weak smile. “Well, at least that would go a long way in explainin' why you had three kids in five years.”  
  
Toby gave a bittersweet laugh and squeezed Chris's ass. “We were making up for lost time.”  
  
“Just like us," said Chris as he slowly pulled Toby in for a kiss. Before long, hands and tongues were used to soften the sharp edges that so easily surfaced between them whenever one of them reacted without thinking.  
  
Suddenly, Toby broke away and whispered, "Sorry I was such a bitch."  
  
"Aw, Toby, it’s this fucking lockdown. You, of all people, should know how Oz will twist your thoughts and feelings like a pretzel if given half a chance. You can’t let it get to you."  
  
“No,” Toby sadly shook his head. “Oz didn't make me a bitch. I was born one."  
  
"Oh, yeah?“ Chris softly laughed. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll have to remember that.” He tickled his hand along Toby’s mid-section until it found its appreciable destination. “Now, stop thinkin’ so much so we can put this lockdown to good use.”


End file.
